Three snorts shy
of military incursion.
Three snorts shy
of planetary waste.
Three snorts shy
of a scratch
and a hiss
and a run
perturbing
what I thought
was disturbing.
Three snorts shy
I won't take this anymore.
Three snorts shy
Would you call this a life?
Three snorts shy
When the things that we mean
are foul
ruchloss
not to be seen.
Do we bide by a world
of feline chicanery,
for its sweetness,
ambivalence,
unconditional affection?
Do we bide by a world
of obedient pets?
Do we infirm our minds
to perceive
their perfection?
But we're three snorts past
imagined hostility,
beyond play,
beyond fun,
a feline reality.
Give us our food
or give us our oil,
or we'll kick your ass
for the the pants
you just soiled.